She giggles madly after finishing the last cannon, and with “wings” upon her feet flutters down the winding stairs until she reaches her room. Swinging the door open she scurries to the bath room obtaining the rather large bucket for the gathering of water – it takes her a good fifteen minutes to fill the whole detailed ivory tub. After setting a fire underneath the tub – which it has a little silver spot right under it to start a flame – Makayla graces her fluffy and bouncy bed with a heavy thump. Spreading out upon it instantly with a loud happy giggle mixed with a sigh, “I’m so glad I met this Captain!” Grabbing a hold of the rather large velvet red pillow she snuggles upon it while letting another happy sigh echo from her…
While waiting for the water to warm Makayla drifts off into happy slumber…
She runs out of the Sea where she was playing with Daemeon for about an hour and has begun to follow after a little red crab that has made its way upon shore.
While following it she giggles madly, and playfully pokes it with a tiny stick she randomly just found upon the white sand.
Smiling down at it, “Snappy Snap…”
She chimes this over and over again until it has become a song to her.
Sitting down upon the wet sand she pokes it, and scoots it about so it cannot venture away from her spot.
Nioki smiles the entire time.
Makayla has finally managed to place herself away from the bonfire and once again take refuge in the dirty cleaning of the gunk filled cannons.
She tugs her hair up while frowning at the rest of the cannons, “Gross…he’s picky about his ship but not his cannons? I suppose he hasn’t done much fighting lately,” She thinks this to herself as she pushes her sleeves up.
Flopping down on her knees she scrubs the one in front of her, “At least I only have twenty more to go!” She beams to herself, “Better than the huge number I started off with!” Smiles at the ones behind her.
Sighs, “And than I can go die in the tub!” She closes her eyes in that happy cute girlish sort of manner, “Sweetest of heavens!!!!!”
After this thought she begins to clean speed, “The faster I’m done the more I can enjoy…”
She becomes lost in her thoughts…
It has been about two hours since his “delightful” conversation with his best friend, and fleet admiral Draven Rimington. These two hours were spent doing nothing in particular besides chit chatting with soldiers within the gray building that housed much of the navy’s superiors in Port Royal. It was built for the politics and gatherings of officials that had busied them selves into any form of military action within this “pirate’s” port.
Taiven found it silly to attempt a massive reconstruction of the port. It was and still is considered a haven for buccaneers. Absolute poppycock in his mind to start a “war” upon their own turf, and expect a pleasant atmosphere to continue. There were natives to worry about, or was he the only one that had thought of them?
It is different to chase pirates out on the sea, but to start a battle…a conflict…around small children, that wasn’t civilized. Taiven knew that most men in the military didn’t care for the natives – the races were different and thus made these natives “worthless” – but he also figured that these men were blinded by their hatred. Children are children anywhere – any race, any gender, any religion, ect.
He hated the thought of fighting and killing men for sport – public hanging for example – in front of these children. It would have to be hard upon them, not to mention dramatizing.
All of his thinking was interrupted abruptly by the rumbling of his stomach, and these thoughts would have to be second rate now.
The commanding Lieutenant knew it was raining quite steadily outside but that didn’t bother him at the least – he wasn’t going to take an umbrella, or a raincoat.
Saying his goodbyes to his soldiers Taiven sung the door to the building open and started making his way towards a little restaurant.
After listening to the Captain of the Dragon’s Treasure Makayla pouts at the thoughts of having to finish up the cannons but also knows that it has to be done before they set sail tomorrow morning – just like Ryem told her “Just incase we be needin’ ‘em.”
“I have to get all dirty again! That gunk is hard to clean off,” She thinks to herself as she looks at her already soaking wet clothes, “Especially on clothes! But it does need to be done…” Her eyes wonder towards the gun deck, “Better now, than later?”
She walks over to where she had unlaced her black leather boots and after scooping them up Makayla sits down upon a log near the bonfire while she reties the strings.
Pouting – she has to stop having fun to work…but work over pleasure (?) – Makayla starts to make her way towards the ship where she can slave away for the cannons, and the demand of her Captain.
::He finally walks back over to the bonfire but doesn’t sit down::
::Looking at everyone – one person at a time::
We be leavin’ for Port Royal in tha mornin’! So make sure ye all are functional by six o’clock!
::Ryem turns to look for Mister Hunyadi::
‘N make ready tha sails…
::Turns quite a few times::
Tha hell is Mister Hunyadi?
::Stops turning around to face everyone::
::His eyes gave at Kalok::
‘N be makin’ sure ye work on the watches, ‘cause we shall be needin’ ‘em for tomorra Corporal.
::Turning his head over towards the ship::
We shall unberth her tomorra …that shall be tha first thang done, savvy?
‘N if ye be excuses me I now have some Captain duties ta be takin’ care of…
::He picks up his boots swiftly, and starts to make his way towards his ship::
::Waving over his shoulder::
G’night mates…Ye all may care on ‘bout here if ye want, just be makin’ sure I don’t have ta put up with ye hangovas tomorra!
He sits alone in this extravagant well-decorated room that has a bit of bore to it as well – the room is painted soiled white. He considers this room to be a secret mental ward made just for him, and him alone.
There of course are random pictures, and silly trophies and diplomas spread out upon the bleached depressing walls. Some of these trophies are placed gallantly upon thick heavy wooden bookcases and file cabinets, and such tables aimlessly about the room.
Giant windows shed some light into the room which really makes it pop out like snow does – God he hates it…
There is table, like an office table pushed against the northern wall, which is his personal prison – he calls it that too. Its bulky and thick with crazy detailed carvings etched into its front side – which only makes him bitch about it…”sissy.” The chair is even worse. Just as bulky but with more etched out details but upholstered in black leather.
Across the room, located on the southern wall, is a fireplace, which he honestly doesn’t understand WHY there is fireplace because it is always hot here.
But the best part of today is the rain! The glorious rain! Not only did the room not shine like snow but also there were no screaming “devil” children out side too annoy him.
Now, he is located upon his “sissy” chair behind his “sissy” desk reading a healthy amount of paperwork – one of the perks of his new job. And he has been reading ever since he got into work this morning about 4 o’clock, and the pages are starting to become a blurring mess of jumbled words and sentences.
Taking his pale hands away from the report – and letting it thump heavily onto the desk top – he messages his temples while closing his light Cerulean blue eyes. A few seconds pass and his eye flicker open with a sense of boredom.
Picking himself up from this prison chair he begins to walk over to the giant widows on the west wall. He passes a full-length mirror and stops – making sure his uniform is still crisp and his black hair still slicked back into a perfect ponytail. After this quick check up, he makes himself comfortable near the window.
Placing his right hand firmly against the glass – he tucks the other hand into his not wrinkled navy jacket - while watching the passing actives outside. The room, which is inside a huge building, is located right outside the harbor. Where pirate ships, and navy ships mingle – because Port Royal is still a forsaken pirate haven with navy ships trying to mange this now.
He gives a quick sneer of arrogance towards the harbor and continues to watch the bustling of people in the heavy beating of rain.
::Ryem finally manages to pull himself way from the crowd of busy chatting people laid about the bonfire::
::He has left his thick heavy chocolate brown boots back at the fire and walks down the beach feeling the softness of the wet white sand underneath his feet::
::Also feeling the slight brief rushing coldness of the sea as it is scattered upon the sand::
::Ryem doesn’t stagger – quite a miracle compared to how much liquor of all sorts he has partaken with within a few hours since berthing – but does carry a green bottle full of rum in his swinging right hand::
::It is very apparent and obvious – if people were around him – that the good Captain is lost within his thoughts::
I escaped from the Dungeon of Captain Ryem!
I killed Amenoch the minotaur, May Highwater the goblin and Makayla Lavey the owlbear.
I looted the Sword of Weather, the Armour of Ireland, the Armour of Smoking, the Dagger of Fucking, the Wand of Sailing and 81 gold pieces.
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She runs over to the bonfire that is busy with chatting crewmates – companions – and the little gypsy takes the deep crimson bag with the multi colored patterns stitched away from her left shoulder – where she had flung it during her run. Dumping out the coconuts in front of everyone, “Coco-nuts” She beams in a proud manner. She whips around and points out towards the sea and than turns back around, “Come play?”